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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688688">Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0'>anywh3r3y0uwant2g0</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Car Accidents, Colors, Crowley's Hiss (Good Omens), Crowley's Sunglasses (Good Omens), Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Holy Water, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kissing, Miracles, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Tags Are Hard, but it's discussed, huh? did I say kissing? whaaaaat?, my tags are a mess i'm sorry, my whole story is a mess tbh, there aren't actually any</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:09:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Only inexperienced angels will become so overwhelmed with emotions that they accidentally perform a miracle. Doing so is laughable. Aziraphale would never! Except that he has... five times now. Each and every time when he was around the demon Crowley. Why on God's green Earth would a demon make an angel feel so strongly that he would perform accidental miracles?</p>
<p>CW: discussion of car accidents, a nightmare with the use of holy water on Crowley by Crowley, description of a panic attack. It'll be very clear when it's coming in the story though, so if you want to skip it you can! Mind the tags :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! So, this story has a pretty major CW (more major than I've ever had before) and I just wanted to let everyone know that I put Author's Notes in the story before anything that I think needs a warning. If you have any suggestions for more warnings then you can tell me in the comments :) I hope you like this!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Ur 2060 BC</strong><br/>
Aziraphale was navigating through the city with ease. It was one of the more advanced places in the world, and he had to smile at all of the magnificent things humans were doing. That’s why he was here! To help them along with their magnificent creations, specifically, the creation of a new sacred language, Sumerian.</p>
<p>He was walking along, waving to the locals when suddenly, a young woman caught his eye. </p>
<p>Her hair shone brilliantly in the midday sun. The rays brought out all the variations of color in her locks, some strands more bronze, some bright copper, and some that looked like flames that had somehow been tamed into beautiful waves. </p>
<p>He’d know that hair anywhere. (Not that he was too keen on admitting this, of course.)</p>
<p>He had stopped where he was, watching her talk to a man. His hands were wringing frantically and his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He was simultaneously excited and terrified to see her again. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like her. He really shouldn’t lie, but more than that, he really shouldn’t feel friendly towards a <em>demon.</em> No, he would not go talk to her. Best to continue on his way and forget this ever happened. </p>
<p>He watched as she went on her tiptoes to peck the man’s cheek before he walked off. Something constricted in Aziraphale’s chest and he felt hot all over. He needed to leave. He wouldn’t talk to her. He wouldn’t he wouldn’t he wouldn’t he-</p>
<p>“Aziraphale?” her voice was quiet enough that if he didn’t have all of his attention on ignoring her he may have genuinely not heard her. </p>
<p>He turned towards her stiffly and slowly, as though he had been caught doing something he was not supposed to. Which was ridiculous! He had done nothing wrong! Yet. </p>
<p>“Crawley,” he said, feigning an uninterested air. </p>
<p>“Ah! I thought it was you!” she walked to him in the way that only she could. “What the Heaven are you doing here?” she asked excitedly, a huge grin on her face. </p>
<p>“I’m ah... “ he played with the hem of his sleeve, feeling her eyes appraise his face, “I’m here because of Sumerian! A beautiful new language the humans are inventing,” he calmed a bit once he remembered his reason for being here. It was a wonderful reason! And even if this interaction with Crawley was awful, it couldn’t possibly ruin his time here. </p>
<p>“Oh, how nice for you,” she said, genuinely smiling at him. </p>
<p>“I suppose you’re here spreading your evil ways?” he said, trying to look disapproving as he had often seen Gabriel look, and failing miserably. He just ended up looking extremely uncomfortable. </p>
<p>“You could say that,” she said sourly. “I have to pretend to be the girlfriend of this powerful soldier. It’s bloody awful,” she said, hand on her hip. </p>
<p>“Oh, are you not attracted to men?” <em>AZIRAPHALE!? WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?!!??</em> He cursed himself internally. </p>
<p>“I didn’t say that,” she said slowly, staring intently at the angel who refused to meet her eye. “Just not this particular man,” she muttered, sounding irritated. </p>
<p>“I apologize for my asking,” Aziraphale said hastily, trying to cover his panic. “That was… improper,” he finally looked at her, shooting her an apologetic smile.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it,” she sounded genuinely unbothered, which was a relief to Aziraphale. (But, come to think of it, why was he relieved? It didn’t make sense, especially since they were <em>not</em> friends.)</p>
<p>“Anyways,” Crawley continued, “this man is a right tosser, he has no respect for women and he’s <em>so</em> thick, I genuinely have no idea how he got to be so high ranking…” she complained about the man she was tasked with pretending to love.</p>
<p>Aziraphale zoned out. Now that they were closer together his eyes were drawn to her hair once more. He saw that she had a number of subtle braids that shimmered in the sunlight. He imagined braiding her hair, braiding flowers into her hair. Oh, how lovely that would look. He wished he truly could braid colorful flowers into her auburn locks, she would look ever so elegant-</p>
<p>A multitude of colorful flowers popped into her braids. She stopped complaining about the soldier. “Er... Aziraphale?” she picked up one of her flower-laden braids, inspecting it.</p>
<p>The angel was stunned into silence for a few moments. She truly did look ever so elegant. The flowers looked magnificent; she was as pretty as a picture. Except... she looked very confused. And, to be honest, he was confused too! How had his wish come true so suddenly- <em>oh! Oh God!</em></p>
<p>Finally, he found his voice (nevermind the fact that it was shaky), “Oh! I am so terribly sorry, my dear! Here, allow me,” he reached to pluck a begonia out of her hair. “Oh, how foolish of me…” he rambled on more apologies as he attempted to remove the flowers. </p>
<p>However, she kept turning and moving; evading his efforts. “No, no, no…” she tried to reason with him, but he continued on. He probably couldn’t hear her over all of his bumbling sentences. </p>
<p>Finally, she snapped, “Angel!!” she grabbed his wrist, preventing him from removing the flower. “If you pull them out the braidssss will be all messssssy,” she hissed. “Jussst-” she paused, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down enough to put an end to the hissing. “Leave them in. It’s fine,” she said, despite the fact that she sounded very put off. She released Aziraphale’s now shaking hand. </p>
<p>“I- I’m so sorry. It was an accident,” he said quietly, attempting to search her face for any signs of how she was feeling. She was a bit red and was slightly turned away from the angel, seeming to breathe heavily. He couldn’t really tell what she was feeling, but he figured she was <em>not happy.</em> </p>
<p>He looked to the ground, filled with worry. Was this the end of their… relationship? Did they even have a relationship? Oh God, she was definitely going to smite him the next time their paths crossed- </p>
<p>“Hey…” she rested a hand on his shoulder. His eyes darted from her hand to her face, full of bewilderment. All thoughts that weren’t along the lines of ‘Crawley… touch… gentle…’ evaporated from his mind. “Breathe. It’s alright,” she squeezed slightly before letting go, returning Aziraphale his respiratory capabilities. “They’re not all bad,” she held up a braid in each hand, smiling slightly.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s brain was short-circuiting. “Quite pretty, actually,” he said quietly. </p>
<p>Her face flushed once more. “I- er… yeah… I s’pose.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale felt as though he had to physically tear his eyes away from the gorgeous demon. (Did he say gorgeous? He meant grotesque. Obviously.)</p>
<p>“I’ll… I’ll see you around, Aziraphale,” and with that, she turned and went into the building that the angel assumed was her and the soldier’s home. </p>
<p>“Good day!” he called, but she was already gone. </p>
<p>He hurried away, thoughts of the demon and his accidental miracle consuming his mind. He was the Principality of the Eastern Gate. He should <em>not</em> be performing accidental miracles like some novice! And to think it came about because of his thoughts of braiding a demon’s hair… </p>
<p>Aziraphale shook himself. He needed a drink.</p>
<p><strong>Rome 1468 AD</strong><br/>
Aziraphale waited in a tavern. The same tavern he and Crowley had previously patronized, although it was not evident from the look of the place (probably because that was more than a thousand years ago). What used to be quaint and bright was now dingy and unnerving to the angel. It was all very dark and drab. <em>Crowley would fit right in,</em> Aziraphale thought, then regretted it. Crowley did not belong with these ruffians; he wasn’t like that. Well… maybe he was, being a demon and all, but he wasn’t dirty and brooding. Just because he enjoyed dark attire didn’t mean he had a dark nature. But what was Aziraphale saying?! He was a <em>demon,</em> of course he had a dark nature. Of course. He shouldn’t even be meeting him or thinking about him or wishing- <em>stop. That’s practically treason.</em> (It was not, in fact practically treason. The Almighty has no qualms with what a certain principality wishes of a certain demon. )</p>
<p>He glanced at a clock on the wall. Crowley was seven minutes late, which was quite <em>vexing</em> to the angel. He was wary enough of doing this at all, it hardly seemed fair for Crowley to keep him waiting. </p>
<p>A few moments later a burly man started to walk straight for Aziraphale. His heart pounded in alarm, as the man continued to approach. He could not take this today. Just as he got up to leave, he saw a head of wavy, bright red hair pop around the man’s arm, the shock and relief of this putting him right back into his seat.</p>
<p>“Angel!” Crowley said, failing to hide the excitement in his voice. A few patrons looked at him suspiciously (this was not normally a place for joyous reunions), but he didn’t notice them, his gaze fixed on the only being in the whole room with lightly colored, posh clothes. </p>
<p>Aziraphale watched as Crowley squeezed past the large man (a feat impossible for most, if not all humans), and rather bounded over to him. He was so pleased to see the demon but tried not to let it show, wanting to scold him for being late. </p>
<p>He settled into a chair right next to him, resting his elbow on the table and holding his chin in his palm. “So…” he began, looking expectantly at Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“So?” When Crowley didn’t answer Aziraphale continued, “You’re late. We agreed on a time for a reason Crowley!” </p>
<p>Crowley cringed. “I got… held up,” he said sheepishly. “But anyway!” he forged ahead with the conversation, not wanting to get into what held him up. “How was Bath?” he drawled.</p>
<p>“It was… tolerable. I made it out unscathed,” Aziraphale said, refusing to look at Crowley who was doing quite the opposite, allowing his eyes to explore every inch of Aziraphale’s face.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna have to give me more than that, angel. I have to write the reports, remember?” Crowley didn’t actually care about making accurate reports. He just wanted to hear more from the angel, wanted to have a better chance at correctly assessing his feelings. </p>
<p>“Fine,” Aziraphale snapped. “I tempted the priest as you requested and… I tempted a young boy to steal, as you insisted I do something using my… imagination,” the angel finished the hard-labored sentence, sounding uncomfortable to even speak of his temptations. </p>
<p>“Very good!” Crowley clapped him on the back, Aziraphale freezing for a moment under the touch. The demon was so warm and Aziraphale wanted to lean into the touch and make it last a while. However, Crowley removed his hand as quickly as he had placed it on his back. Aziraphale felt as though time had restarted. Crowley seemed unperturbed, “This ‘young boy’ that you tempted to steal… did he happen to be… perchance… impoverished? And stealing food to keep his family alive?” Crowley cracked a grin at Aziraphale’s reddening face. </p>
<p>“Possibly,” he said quietly, fidgeting with the hem of his hood. He didn’t have it pulled over his head, the actual hood part hanging limp on his back. He had noticed Crowley wasn’t wearing a hood. The demon always kept up with the latest styles, wearing a tunic with ample puffy sleeves, the fabric skin-tight on his torso. It was made from black and grey artichoke-patterned silk. Artichoke patterning looked rather strange when it was all dark colors. Aziraphale pondered for a moment how Crowley would look with more colorful garments.</p>
<p>“And what about the blessings?” Crowley’s smiling face popped him out of his thoughts.</p>
<p>Aziraphale visibly relaxed, remembering his blessings. “I cured a girl of her sickness and…” Aziraphale chuckled, “well, I blessed a young boy and his family with enough food to get them through the winter,” he turned, meeting the demon’s eyes with a smile.</p>
<p>“Ha!” Crowley threw back his head in laughter, delighted by the cheeky nature of the angel. Aziraphale giggled as well, pleased that Crowley was happy. He took in his smiling features, wondering for what was probably the millionth time in his life how someone so beautiful was a demon. Not that it mattered <em>too</em> much. That didn’t stop Aziraphale from lo- er… nevermind. </p>
<p>His eyes returned to his intricately patterned clothes. He imagined them in full color; colors that would match Crowley. Gold to compliment his eyes, carnelian red to accentuate his lips-</p>
<p>There was the sound of a miracle. Crowley stopped smiling. Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, his lips parted in shock. </p>
<p>Crowley’s tunic was now shimmering with gold, carnelian red, and orchid pink. His stockings (that served the purpose of pants- it was the 1460’s in Italy, don’t ask) were a lovely Tyrian purple.</p>
<p>Needless to say, Aziraphale was speechless. Whether it was from embarrassment, shock, or Crowley’s ability to look splendid in anything he wore, even God Herself did not know. </p>
<p>“I…” Crowley broke the awkward silence. “Angel… did you?” </p>
<p>Aziraphale continued to stare at him, speechless for a few moments longer than necessary. “I- er-” <em>cough</em> “that is to say I… yes, I do believe I did,” Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze. Somehow, <em>for once,</em> his internal panic continued to be just that, mostly internal, and he stayed reasonably cool. </p>
<p>“How-? I… er. Why...?” Crowley started multiple sentences, not fully forming any of them.</p>
<p>“I…” now Aziraphale felt tremors begin to find their way out of his mind into his body. “I was just wondering if- that is to say, I was… wondering how you would look with more color in your ensemble,” Aziraphale spewed quickly.</p>
<p>“I don’t wear color,” was Crowley’s only response, still in a state of shock from the accidental miracle. </p>
<p>“I… yes, I’ve noticed,” Aziraphale’s fingers shakily fiddled with one another. </p>
<p>“I… I don’t…” Crowley started. Aziraphale avoided his eyes. Eventually, Crowley remembered himself and snapped the colorful garments back to their original tones. </p>
<p>They were both silent for a few long moments, Aziraphale feeling the heavy weight of embarrassment take over his body, making him wish he could just disappear. </p>
<p>After what felt like <em>years</em> Crowley spoke. “Well, Leeds was quite the adventure, I’ll tell you that…” he continued on as though nothing had happened. As though Aziraphale hadn’t just accidentally changed his attire to bright colors. He seemed to pretend to forget. Aziraphale seemed unable to stop remembering, and envisioning… To this day, he could picture his demon in those silly, altered garments looking uncomfortable in a dingy tavern that had once been lovely. Aziraphale could not shake the image. Nor the shame that came with accidental miracles.</p>
<p><strong>Paris 1793</strong><br/>
Crowley looked… impressive. Breathtaking. Dapper. Irresistible. Handsome. Bewitching. Alluring. Aziraphale could go on and on but, overall, he looked <em>unbelievably hot.</em> And he had just rescued Aziraphale (dressed like that). And now they were seated at a table in a restaurant awaiting crêpes (with Crowley looking <em>almost</em> more delectable than the food). And, lately, every time he saw the demon he felt a certain exhilaration that pumped through his veins that he couldn’t quite put his finger on… and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to (and, just in case you forgot, Crowley still looked like- like- oh goodness…). </p>
<p>Aziraphale gazed at his companion. He was feeling bold. He wasn’t even <em>trying</em> to hide the fact that he was eyeing him up and down, left and right, sideways, upside-down, and backwards. </p>
<p>Honestly, his mind was getting quite ahead of him and he was <em>very</em> thankful that the crêpes arrived at this moment. He smiled at the waiter before letting all of his senses run rampant on the glorious food.</p>
<p>“So,” Crowley drawled, one eyebrow high above his dark glasses, “these are worth getting discorporated?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” Aziraphale’s voice came out slightly husky. He cleared his throat before he continued. “You <em>must</em> have one,” Crowley’s lips twitched in a way Aziraphale couldn’t read. “They are positively scrumptious,” the angel proved his point by taking a bite. His eyelids fluttered shut at the grand taste, vocalising a small sigh of pleasure. </p>
<p>When he opened his eyes Crowley had his face resting in his hand in an attempt to cover his blush. (He may not have been blushing, after all, Aziraphale couldn’t see the bottom half of his face, but he gave his mind the liberty to take that leap.) </p>
<p>Aziraphale lifted his napkin, dabbing at his face. He used it to hide the beaming smile he could not contain, though he was positive his eyes were a dead giveaway on his true feelings. He wondered what Crowley’s eyes might give away… if only he could see them. His dark tinted glasses did their job tremendously. </p>
<p>“Here,” he said after putting down his napkin. He reached for the plate that was between them. “You must try some,” he started to cut a bite for the demon.</p>
<p>Crowley held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “No, angel, you really don’t have to do that, they’re yours, I wouldn’t want to take anything you’d get discorporated for away from you,” he said these many things all at once while Aziraphale stabbed a generous bite of a crêpe.</p>
<p>“Don’t be silly, I won’t miss one bite,” he held up the fork, moving his hand toward Crowley. The demon made no move to accept the piece of crêpe. “Dear, I insist. They’re delicious!” Aziraphale had his mouth open as he continued to move the fork towards Crowley, intending to feed him like a toddler if he wasn’t going to feed himself.</p>
<p>Finally, Crowley had enough. “Fine,” he snatched the fork from Aziraphale. </p>
<p>The scene seemed to play in slow-motion for Aziraphale. Crowley raised the fork to his lips that parted to let the sweet food enter, his tongue greeting it with a gentle taste before his lips closed around the fork that he slowly withdrew from his mouth. </p>
<p>Aziraphale forgot how to breathe.</p>
<p>Crowley was chewing, the show that had been going on when he was taking the bite had ended. But the angel didn’t want to accept this! He wanted more. He wanted to watch Crowley experience the satisfaction that came with eating those delicate, sugar-filled crêpes. He wanted to see his eyes, those gorgeous golden eyes, he wanted to see them explode with pleasure. </p>
<p>Suddenly he could. Crowley really did seem to be enjoying the crêpe, but the delight that had been in his eyes suddenly turned to fear.</p>
<p>“What the <em>Heaven</em> Aziraphale!?” he said through gritted teeth as he fumbled to pull another pair of glasses out of his coat. “I know you’re fine with living with one foot in the grave but I happen to find disssscorporation <em>extremely unappealing.</em> You know what thossse ssssssssscumbag humansss would do if they ssssaw my eyessssss?” Crowley clenched his fists attempting to get the hissing under control. “They’d chop. My Godforsaken head. Clean. Off,” he said in a low threatening voice. And the point he was making <em>did</em> cause Aziraphale’s heart to drop into his stomach in terror. </p>
<p>“I’m terribly sorry,” Aziraphale whispered. “You know… I wouldn’t… I… I’d never let them hurt you,” he found his voice again. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Crowley. I don’t want you to have to go to Hell and explain that you were discorporated because of an angel’s foolishness,” he wanted to cry. He felt awful that his stupid brain could have put Crowley in serious danger. </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t tell them that,” Crowley mumbled. </p>
<p>“Still, I apologize. That was… careless of me. Stupid. It was a mistake, I should not have even dared to think-”</p>
<p>“Easy, angel. I’m alright. I didn’t mean to snap,” he said, staring at the crêpes so he didn’t have to meet the angel’s misty eyes. </p>
<p>“It’s ok. I deserve to be reprimanded. I… I shouldn’t even be an angel. Good angels don’t accidentally miracle things or think about… a-about…”</p>
<p>Thankfully Crowley didn’t wait for him to finish that thought. “Aziraphale,” he met his watery eyes, the sight making him feel like his heart might break. “You are the best angel I have <em>ever</em> known. You <em>deserve</em> that title… more than <em>anyone</em> else,” the words had been on the tip of his tongue for millennia, but they still had to fight their way out. To be fair, it wasn’t every day a demon was this honest about his feelings.</p>
<p>“Oh… Crowley…” Aziraphale’s lip quivered. </p>
<p>“Don’t mention it,” Crowley said. He looked away from the man that was fighting off tears, but he reached across the table nonetheless. He placed his hand over Aziraphale’s in a comforting gesture. </p>
<p>Warmth traveled from the point of contact with Crowley all the way up his arm and into his chest. Something in Aziraphale’s heart that he hadn’t even realized was broken felt like it was miraculously mending itself.</p>
<p>He mustn’t let his thoughts get so out of control ever again. But maybe… if he kept them in check… they weren’t all bad. I mean… this didn’t feel bad at all.</p>
<p>
  <strong>A/N: this next part is where it gets more angsty and there is a discussion of a car accident. If you are comfortable with that, read on! If you would rather skip this part scroll down to the next A/N which will be directly after this part :)</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>Soho, London 1952</strong><br/>
They whirred past buildings so quickly that they all seemed like some combined wall that surrounded the street on both sides. </p>
<p>Aziraphale did not know where to put his hands. There wasn’t really anything to hold onto in this blasted car. They sat in tight fists, gently bouncing on his thighs, knuckles whiter than the walls of Heaven. </p>
<p>Aziraphale used to think anywhere with Crowley was not a half-bad place to be. How wrong he was. Being in the Bentley, <em>especially</em> when with Crowley, was an <em>entirely</em> bad place to be. </p>
<p>No matter how many times Crowley promised him that no one, inside the car or out, would be hurt, Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to fully believe him. </p>
<p>He had seen car wrecks before, arriving at the scene to miracle away some of the damage done to the humans. He couldn’t miracle it all away, however. He couldn’t miracle away trauma. </p>
<p>When Crowley veered off the road and onto the sidewalk in order to pass a slow car Aziraphale whimpered. </p>
<p>“Alright, angel?” Crowley turned to face him, the alarm in his eyes obvious even through his shades. </p>
<p>“Eyes on the road, Crowley!!” Aziraphale squealed, pointing out the windshield frantically. Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed in concern before begrudgingly turning to keep an eye on the street. “And to answer your question, not really, no,” Aziraphale said tensely. </p>
<p>Crowley turned to face him again, “What’s the matter?” </p>
<p>“Look where you’re going!!! Or at least slow down a little!!” Crowley gave him a reproachful look before returning his gaze to the road. </p>
<p>“What’s wrong, Aziraphale?” he asked, working extremely hard not to turn and analyse his expression. It would save so much time, Aziraphale usually didn’t like to talk about what was wrong but Crowley could figure it out in a short time if he only could see the angel. </p>
<p>However, this time, he seemed eager to tell the demon off. “You drive too fast! Carelessly! One of these days someone is going to get killed-”</p>
<p>Crowley had heard this all before from the only passenger he had ever had. “Angel, I am a perfectly fine driver, I have it under control, no one’s going to get hurt-”</p>
<p>“You don’t <em>know</em> that!! You couldn’t! Even if you miracle away injuries, think of the mental damage you would inflict upon poor humans in a car accident!!” Aziraphale waved his hands around frantically. </p>
<p>Aziraphale felt the car speed up even faster, Crowley mumbling something about mental damage. </p>
<p>They were coming up to a corner. Aziraphale felt his heartbeat racing inconsistently, his breathing heightened, all of him considerably sweaty, they weren’t going to make this corner they weren’t going to make this corner they weren’t going to make this-</p>
<p>The car slowed down immensely. They made the corner with extreme ease. </p>
<p>Crowley looked to the angel, his expression hard to read. “Azirapha-”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to hear it. I may have just saved our lives. Or, well, our corporations- just,” he interrupted himself. “Take me to the bookshop,” Crowley inhaled in preparation to speak, but Aziraphale prevented that before he even began. “Now.”</p>
<p>Crowley didn’t respond to that, just nodded solemnly and increased the car’s speed so they were only going ten miles per hour above the speed limit. </p>
<p>The rest of the ride was filled with tense silence. </p>
<p>Aziraphale looked out the window wishing he could be alone in his shop so he could feel all his emotions. There were a lot. He didn’t want to be mad at Crowley, he just wanted to love him. But he didn’t want to love him either. He just wanted to cry. He couldn’t do anything right. And he was back at it again with his accidental miracles, making him a failure of an angel. But, he supposed, loving a demon already made him quite the failed angel. He sighed quietly out of his nose. They were only about five minutes away from the bookshop now. </p>
<p>“Angel…” Aziraphale didn’t look at him. “Look I… I’m sorry,” Aziraphale turned just the slightest bit so he could see Crowley out of the corner of his eye. The demon kept his eyes fixed on the road, for the most part, glancing over quickly to observe Aziraphale. “I had it under control, but I… I should have listened to you if I was genuinely upsetting you. That… I er... that was my bad,” Aziraphale quickly turned to look out the window again when he saw Crowley moving to remove his glasses. That wasn’t good. Aziraphale couldn’t look into his eyes. He didn’t want to feel his chest flood with love in that way it did whenever he could see Crowley’s molten gold eyes, or Crowley’s adorable smile, or when his eyebrows shifted in that way that let Aziraphale know he was surprised by whatever he had just told him, and he <em>definitely</em> would not be able to handle it if he looked into Crowley’s eyes and <em>saw</em> the deep remorse he could already hear in his voice. He didn’t need that right now. He didn’t need this damn (excuse his language) demon making him fall irreversibly in love with him. Especially not now. Not when he was supposed to be mad at him. </p>
<p>Thankfully, they were pulling up to the bookshop. </p>
<p>Crowley started to open his door so he could go around and help Aziraphale out, as he had done the past two times they had driven together. Aziraphale quickly put an end to that. </p>
<p>“There’s no need for that,” he said cooly, trying to open his car door with fumbling fingers. </p>
<p>“I- is there any way I could make it up to you, angel? Do you need help with the shop or-”</p>
<p>“No! No,” he repeated softer, still refusing to meet Crowley’s exposed eyes that he was certain were filled with emotion that would hit him directly in his heart. Finally, he got that blasted door open. Crowley tensed, preparing to follow him into the shop or at least give him a proper goodbye. Aziraphale couldn’t take it. “Just leave, Crowley,” he said, voice wavering. </p>
<p>He got out of the car and shut the door. </p>
<p>It was as though he was tied to Crowley. Every step that took him further away from the demon seemed to rip a larger hole in the very fabric of Aziraphale’s being. But he kept walking, despite the cries from the disobedient part of his brain. The part that just wanted to run into Crowley’s arms and tell the demon that he cared so deeply about him and that he had to keep himself and others safe and by going the goddamn (excuse his language again) speed limit. But he didn’t. He squashed those traitorous thoughts away and kept walking.</p>
<p>He heard an engine running and a demon’s heart shattering into a million pieces before the squeal of tires. </p>
<p>He did not look back as he entered the bookshop. </p>
<p>
  <strong>A/N: this next part will include a description of Aziraphale's nightmare in which Crowley uses the holy water on himself and a description of a panic attack. If you don't want to read any of that, scroll to where it says "Soho, London 2020". If you don't want to read the nightmare, but you're okay with reading the panic attack and subsequent comforting, skip to the part after the "~×~". Do whatever is best for you &lt;3</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>Soho, London 1967</strong><br/>
It had been a long, hard day. The morning had been enjoyable, but Aziraphale had long forgotten about his delicious marmalade toast. He was much more focused on what had just happened between him and Crowley. </p>
<p>When he had used his Heavenly powers to check up on Crowley and found that he was setting up a <em>caper</em> with <em>criminals</em> he found himself in a time-sensitive predicament. </p>
<p>He had to either let Crowley risk his life to <em>steal</em> the most dangerous thing in the world for him that would <em>permanently destroy his essence</em> or… he had to give Crowley the holy water himself. </p>
<p>Both had great risks. Either way, Crowley had the potential to be completely destroyed, which was one of the worst possible things Aziraphale could imagine. </p>
<p>After a lot of bothered pacing and going through many possible scenarios Aziraphale had decided it best to take matters into his own hands. If he had control over the situation he could give Crowley a <em>sealed</em> container of holy water that had less possibility of accidentally destroying him and, while he was at it, he would decorate it with his personal tartan pattern. So that Crowley could look at it and think of him and maybe, just maybe, remember that there was someone in the world who cared about him and didn’t want him to be gone forever. And who trusted him enough that he would give him this and still believe he would see him again. Aziraphale <em>did</em> believe that, of course. He had to. He couldn’t imagine a life without the demon, so, he wouldn’t. </p>
<p>He had miracled up the thermos and blessed the water with a shaky voice, terrified of what he was about to do. </p>
<p>He had given it to Crowley, feeling better when he was with the demon, but not sticking around with him. He had decided beforehand that it would be best for him to leave after that, he would be emotional and would feel very compelled to blab his feelings. He wanted Crowley to know he was loved. But he couldn’t just- he was an <em>angel</em> and Crowley… Crowley was <em>wonderful</em> and deserved to know. <em>These thoughts are exactly why you couldn’t stay,</em> he scolded himself. </p>
<p>Now he was at his bookshop, crying softly as he got himself drunker and drunker, attempting to read and instead finding his eyes drawn to the portrait of him and Crowley that was hung up in his backroom. When he stood up to inspect it more closely he felt a wave of <em>wrong</em> wash over him. </p>
<p>He placed a hand on his desk to steady himself. His heart started to beat frantically in his chest. </p>
<p>Crowley. </p>
<p>Something was horribly wrong.</p>
<p>He shut his eyes tightly and snapped his fingers, mind consumed by Crowley, trying to miracle himself to wherever he was. When he reopened his eyes and found himself still in the bookshop he threw himself out the door and started to run to where he could sense the root of the <em>wrongness,</em> wasting no time to ponder why he was not able to perform a miracle and reach him faster.</p>
<p>He ran and ran and ran, the horrible sense of deep unease growing and consuming every part of him with adrenaline. </p>
<p>“No no no no no, this can’t be happening,” he sobbed to the night sky as he continued on his way. </p>
<p>He finally made it to a building that he could sense Crowley was in. His heart was positively pounding as he flung open the door and bolted up the stairs. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and his strength heightened by Divine power, he was twice as fast as the elevator would have been. </p>
<p>He felt sharp pain every time he breathed. He ignored it. </p>
<p>His entire corporation was shaking. He forged ahead. </p>
<p>Tears that did not appear to be made of water were flowing steadily out of much more than two eyes. He was unaware. </p>
<p>Every single neuron in his brain was focused on a loop of one train of thought and one train of thought only. <em>Get to Crowley. Stop Crowley. Save Crowley.</em> </p>
<p>
  <em>Get to Crowley. Stop Crowley. Save Crowley.</em>
</p>
<p>He rammed through the door, breaking through wood with his shoulder.  </p>
<p>
  <em>Get to Crowley.</em>
</p>
<p>He saw him. Oh, he saw him. He saw him with the thermos in his hand. </p>
<p>Uncapped.</p>
<p>
  <em>Stop Crowley.</em>
</p>
<p>He did not stop running. He was traveling so quickly yet everything appeared in slow motion. </p>
<p>Crowley lifting the thermos to his lips. </p>
<p>He yelled out the demon’s name, the sound was deafening, being supported by his Heavenly power. </p>
<p>Crowley turned to look at him, a terrifyingly calm smile on his face, but with tears standing in his eyes that were filled with pain. </p>
<p>Aziraphale kept running. </p>
<p>But he wasn’t fast enough. </p>
<p>Crowley tilted the thermos and the water met his lips. </p>
<p>
  <em>Lose Crowley.</em>
</p>
<p>He screamed. </p>
<p>He screamed. He screamed. He screamed.</p>
<p>~×~</p>
<p>And then he woke up. </p>
<p>He woke up to the sound of screams. He looked around the bookshop to see who had been screaming, he felt around with his powers to see if there was someone hurt nearby. No one. It was just him, everyone else was sound asleep, as humans tended to be at this hour of the night. <em>Oh.</em></p>
<p>He was covered in a cold sweat. </p>
<p>And he was crying. He was crying and he couldn’t stop. He found to his dismay that his book was drenched from his tears. At least these tears were only made of water. </p>
<p><em>Crowley.</em> Was Crowley okay? Good Lord… was Crowly... <em>alive?</em>his possessions. </p>
<p>He was in a very dark room. He hugged himself, whimpering, as he waited for his eyes to adjust. It didn’t help that they were continually being blurred by a fresh wave of tears. </p>
<p>When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw that he was standing at the foot of a large bed. </p>
<p>Someone was in the bed. </p>
<p>Was this another dream? His body began to shake harder at thoughts of whatever horrors might occur this time. </p>
<p>The being in the bed shifted. Aziraphale froze, tears still pouring relentlessly out of his wide eyes.</p>
<p>He heard a gasp and suddenly the room was bathed in light. He covered his eyes with his hands at the brightness, practically cowering in fear. The person, whoever this was, knew he was here. Obviously it would be unpleasant to find a distraught and unwanted guest in your bedroom in the middle of the night. This was not going to end well. Aziraphale prepared himself for this awful continuation of the worst night of his life. </p>
<p>“Angel?” a voice he knew well uttered softly, slightly scratchy from sleep. </p>
<p>Aziraphale removed his hands from his face shakily, eyes wide with disbelief. When he saw the ruffled red hair and slitted yellow eyes squinting at him he lost <em>all</em> control. He stumbled forward, just barely close enough to have his fall softened by the end of the bed, and dropped all the way onto the floor, letting out a series of low wails and incoherent sounds. </p>
<p><em>“Shit,”</em> Crowley clambered out of bed and in a split second had his arms wrapped around the angel’s violently shaking form. Aziraphale searched desperately for his chest, his neck, needing to find his pulse. A gentle hand caught his frantic one and placed it on a silky surface. He felt a steady pounding beneath his fingertips and, with a sob, went completely limp, falling onto Crowley’s chest. He burrowed his face into him, trying desperately to grab onto the warm feeling that felt like the only thing keeping him alive. The demon took this in stride, enclosing him in his arms once more. “I’m here,” he whispered into his damp, pale curls. “I’m here,” he felt more than heard Aziraphale’s continuous weeping. </p>
<p>After a long while of whispered words and soothing strokes up and down the length of his back, Aziraphale attempted to speak. “D-do…”</p>
<p>Crowley waited for a moment to see if he would finish. When he returned to his subdued crying and didn’t continue he prompted. “What was that, angel?”</p>
<p>“D-d-d-d-” Aziraphale’s body lurched with a silent sob. He took a shaky breath before speaking, “Don’t die,” he whimpered. </p>
<p>Crowley felt his heart break for the angel. He truly thought he wanted the holy water to off himself. “I won’t. Not ever. I swear to always be here for you, Aziraphale,” he held the angel tightly once again as he shook with more tears. </p>
<p>Eventually, after what must have been hours, Crowley found himself with an angel sleeping in his lap. He continued to stroke his hair, which he had begun doing before Aziraphale had fallen asleep. </p>
<p>Crowley did not fall back asleep that night. He did eventually move back into bed, taking Aziraphale with of course, very carefully as to not wake him. He definitely needed the rest. </p>
<p>Crowley didn’t even know what had exactly happened, but he knew it had shaken Aziraphale to his core. And that it had something to do with him dying. What he had said was true, he was not planning on dying. He’d stay on Earth forever if it meant never having Aziraphale feel that tortured again. </p>
<p>He leaned over and gave the angel a feather-light kiss on the forehead. His mouth was open and he was drooling slightly, his eyes and nose still red and puffy from hours of crying. How long had Aziraphale been crying before he got to Crowley? How had he even gotten here? He hadn’t ever been to Crowley’s flat before. Not that he was unwanted he’d just… never had a real reason to invite him over. </p>
<p>However it happened, Crowley was very glad the angel had found him and that he’d been able to comfort him. He just hoped it had been enough. He stroked his angel’s hair lovingly, enjoying the way his warmth seemed to seep into Crowley’s bones. He was very glad indeed. </p>
<p><strong>Soho, London 2020</strong><br/>
Aziraphale put the phone back on the hook and straightened his bowtie after having listened to the disconnect tone for 15 seconds longer than necessary, with a teeny smile that was positively <em>dripping</em> with adoration. </p>
<p>Hearing Crowley gently utter the words “good night, angel,” had certainly done a number on him. And so had the idea of Crowley coming over to watch him eat cake and being stuck with him in the bookshop for however long this staying-home business lasted, leaving them to live together in pure domestic bliss. The angel swore he could physically feel his brain fall out of his head and onto the Schwarzwälder kirschtorte. </p>
<p>But he had declined the proposal. Best to move on with his day then, put a kettle on. It had been lovely talking to Crowley, but that was that. The demon was going to sleep now. Because Aziraphale had said no to him coming over. </p>
<p>The angel sighed, hands fidgeting in front of his belly, shoulders tense. </p>
<p>He hadn’t meant to say no to Crowley, the suggestion had just, well, it had surprised and flustered him, and old habits die hard. Especially for an angel very set in his ways, very used to refusing any offer made by Crowley… for at least a few years. But this lockdown wouldn’t last that long (at least he hoped it wouldn’t). </p>
<p>However… he honestly didn’t know if he could go <em>two months</em> without seeing Crowley. No that- that was ridiculous. Of course he could! He’d gone <em>years</em> without seeing Crowley! Unpleasant years, where his head was often occupied with thoughts of ‘I wonder where Crowley is’ and ‘I wonder what he is doing’ and ‘I wonder with whom he does whatever it is he is doing’. Years of writing unsent letters, and, later, of fingers itching to dial the number he had memorized the first time it had been revealed to him. </p>
<p>But this wasn’t years- this was months! And only two at that. Just barely enough to even qualify as <em>months</em> at all, instead of just being <em>a month.</em> He would be fine. He could last… er… sixty-one days without speaking to a demon! The demon. <em>His</em> demon. His darling, enchanting- </p>
<p>Aziraphale jumped when the kettle began to emit a high pitched sound. He quickly hurried over and prepared the tea to steep. </p>
<p>Sixty-one days… one-thousand-four-hundred-and-sixty-four hours… well, actually, he was partly through the first day! Only one-thousand-four-hundred-and-forty-nine hours! </p>
<p>He let out a little sound of distress. These calculations were <em>not</em> easing his mind. </p>
<p>At least Crowley would be safe if he was sleeping. Or… would he? He lived alone. He’d be totally unguarded… and Hell might come back… they might discover their little trick. So… maybe he should call Crowley back… </p>
<p>No, no. He’s being silly, of course. Over-protective Principality Aziraphale, that was him. Crowley was perfectly capable of taking care of himself! He would definitely wake up if some demons tried to get into his flat- or- wait- oh God… would he? Aziraphale had personally seen the demon sleep through… a lot. </p>
<p>Maybe he should just call him to inform him of these concerns! Just to warn him to be on alert, in case Hell does decide to have another go at destroying him. Just to let him know that if he needed someone to watch over him while he slept Aziraphale would be more than happy to… to… </p>
<p>Well. There was no way he was going to say <em>that.</em> Maybe he needn’t call at all. Crowley had probably thought of this himself, he was, although he denied it, the very careful type of being. He thought of everything, or at least, much more than what Aziraphale thought of. After all, <em>Crowley</em> would never pop across the Channel, during a revolution, dressed similarly to the way a considerably wealthy aristocrat would, for the sole purpose of purchasing some authentic Parisian crêpes. Crowley was much too careful for that. So, he was probably aware of what Hell might try. Aziraphale had overcome his horrible fears of 1967, he trusted the demon to take care of himself. </p>
<p>He realized that there was a delicious smell wafting through the air. Not the smell of his many cakes, but the smell of freshly brewed tea. He poured himself a cuppa, added the proper amount of milk and three sugars, exactly how he liked it. It was steaming hot, and he inhaled the scent again. He gave a happy wiggle at what humans may call a heavenly scent. (Humans would be factually incorrect to call any scent on Earth heavenly, as Heaven smelled unlike anything they could imagine. Not to imply that there is anything wrong with being factually incorrect in this innocent manner.) </p>
<p>Aziraphale brought his tea over to his chair and tried to continue reading his book. Note the importance of the word <em>tried.</em> Apparently, reading is a very difficult task if your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of your- err… hereditary enemy? Best friend? Life partner? Of your- well… of your Crowley. Very difficult indeed. </p>
<p>After about forty minutes of attempted reading to no avail, Aziraphale began to pace. </p>
<p>“He’s fine. He- he doesn’t <em>really</em> want- oh, you old fool! He was the one who suggested it! He does want to… to… to stay with you,” he finished very quietly. Aziraphale stopped moving about the shop and stood, eyes on the floor, imagining how wonderful everything could have been if he had <em>just said yes!</em></p>
<p>“I’ll call him,” he stated firmly, before groaning in distress. “Oh, but what if he’s already asleep! I don’t want to wake him, he gets <em>so</em> grumpy about that…” </p>
<p>Aziraphale continued to pace around the shop. It was beginning to grow dark outside. Crowley was almost certainly asleep. He had wasted too much time, gone too slow, lost his chance…</p>
<p>“Wait,” he stopped in front of a basket full of sourdough loaves. He looked at his pocket watch feverishly. “It’s been <em>two hours</em> and I already long for his presence in an unbearable way. Surely… I mean… I <em>could</em> just… he suggested coming over in the first place! That way I won’t wake him if he’s already asleep, he won’t have to go outside and break quarantine, and, if he wakes up and wants to go home I can easily put him right back! This… this isn’t frivolous. It is absolutely necessary that I keep an eye on the adversary, to make sure he doesn’t <em>tempt</em> anyone!” <em>other than the present company,</em> Aziraphale adds in his mind. It’ll take a few more years of Crowley tempting him for the angel to admit things like that out loud. Although, he knows, Crowley would never <em>actually</em> try to tempt him in the demonic way, only in the figure-of-speech way. </p>
<p>“Well, it’s settled then!” Aziraphale decides. He focuses on Crowley very hard (exactly what he’s been doing for the past two hours), and snaps his fingers. </p>
<p>~×~</p>
<p>Crowley likes to think of himself as a realist. Maybe a pessimist, on bad days. </p>
<p>However, he is more accurately an optimist. Maybe a realist, on bad days.</p>
<p>This is not a particularly bad day. </p>
<p>Yes, Aziraphale had said no to his proposal of coming over so that they could spend the lockdown together, but he had expected that answer. If Aziraphale had said yes he might have been concerned about the angel! That would be breaking a lot of rules, both humanly <em>and</em> Heavenly. He knew doing something like that would take more than just one proposition. </p>
<p>He decided he would let the angel think things over for the rest of the day. Sometimes Aziraphale was much better at convincing himself of something than Crowley was. </p>
<p>But he knew Aziraphale. The angel would call him, at most, three hours after the call. If he hadn’t done it before then, he wasn’t going to call. Crowley had told him he’d be asleep, and Aziraphale was not <em>rude,</em> after all. </p>
<p>Now he was swiftly approaching the two-and-a-half hours mark. He was hopeful, not stupid. Aziraphale most likely wasn’t going to call. Crowley sighed, and made sure, once more, that his phone notification volume was all the way up. It was. </p>
<p>He grumbled as he threw his body into a standing position. He’d put on his pajamas to prepare for this two-month long nap. </p>
<p>He sauntered into his room and opened the doors to his wardrobe aggressively. He gently pulled out his silk pajamas and set them on the bed. </p>
<p>He was not used to taking off his clothes in the slow, human way, but he had nothing better to do than unbutton buttons. </p>
<p>However, he found his jeans to be a difficulty. They were very tight. Not that he didn’t know that just… he didn’t usually try to take them off this way. </p>
<p>He was in his undershirt, underpants, and the blasted jeans that he was struggling to get over the thickest part of his calf. </p>
<p>He tried to peel them off like the peel of a banana. No luck there. </p>
<p>He tried jumping. They stayed on. </p>
<p>He tried kicking. Nada. </p>
<p>He tried physically bending himself in half and tugging them down with all his might. They moved a centimeter. </p>
<p>“Haha! I’ve got you now, you bastards!” Crowley said to his pants. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled desperately on them again. </p>
<p>When he opened his eyes he saw that he was no longer on the floor of his room, but standing on a sofa. “What the-” he began, but was interrupted by a voice filled with joy.</p>
<p>“Crowley!” </p>
<p>The demon shot up into a standing position to see if he correctly identified the voice. He had. “Angel?!!??” he squeaked out, before he toppled over the back of the couch with a dull thud. You see, he had stood up dizzyingly quickly, to find that his crush was looking at him in only his undergarments and his pants, that could practically be considered handcuffs around his ankles, and he was on the uneven surface of a <em>sofa.</em> And, he wasn’t made for legs in the first place. What else could you expect?</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!!” Aziraphale squeaked, slightly less squeakily than Crowley had moments ago, rushing to the pile of limbs that was his beloved demon. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“How the Heaven did I get here?” Crowley asked, as Aziraphale helped him into a sitting position, leaning against the back of the sofa. </p>
<p>“I- well- that is- I- I- I can’t focus with your trousers round your ankles!” Aziraphale snapped and Crowley’s jeans were miraculously pulled back up. </p>
<p>“Hey!! I worked hard to get those off!” Crowley whined in protest. </p>
<p>Aziraphale just sighed in an exasperated manner, despite the fact that he was actually very pleased to have Crowley here, and awake no less! “Anyway,” he shot a slightly disapproving look in Crowley’s direction, but his eyes were brimming with mirth. “I miracled you here, onto the sofa, in case you were already asleep. Which you aren’t! Lucky me,” he beamed at Crowley.</p>
<p>“You- you- wha…?” Crowley said. This whole situation was wacky, one moment he was changing into his pajamas and preparing for a two-month long nap (if he was lucky, and this all ended sooner, rather than later), and the next he was on Aziraphale’s sofa with the angel looking at him in only his pants, and <em>now,</em> Aziraphale has the audacity to tell him he did this? On purpose, no less?? Why??? “Why?” his internal monologue became external. </p>
<p>“Well, er, because, dear boy…” Aziraphale looked away with a certain desperation in his eyes that Crowley had seen many times before. “Because I missed you terribly and I thought this was my last chance,” he blurted, still not meeting Crowley’s eyes. </p>
<p>“Your last cha- Aziraphale!” Crowley said incredulously. The angel turned to hold his gaze with the most anxious expression on his face. “You don’t have to worry about last chances. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” those sky-blue eyes stared right into Crowley’s soul with so much longing and fear. </p>
<p>Without breaking the eye contact, Aziraphale shakily held out his pinky finger to the demon. His golden eyes glanced down at it and then his pinky wrapped around the angel’s with a ferocious fierceness. He smiled at him in a way that was defiant yet warm; it was a smile that said ‘I will choose you above all else, under any circumstances, in a heartbeat.’</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked down at their intertwined pinkies and smiled. He looked up to Crowley and kept smiling. His smile was the picture of relief, the sort of smile that said ‘I can’t believe this is real, you are my dream come true.’</p>
<p>And then Aziraphale tugged their pinkies a little closer to him, reached up to hold Crowley’s face with his other hand, and leaned in to lock lips with a demon. The demon. <em>His</em> demon. </p>
<p>Aziraphale felt no regret for this particular miracle. It was entirely intentional and entirely lovely to have Crowley here. No, he did not regret it in the slightest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again! Hopefully you enjoyed that, and the happy ending made up for some of the angstier parts 😅 I would love to hear what you think in the comments!! Thank you sooooo much for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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